


All Wrapped Up in Red Tape Ribbons

by CGotAnAccount



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Dates, M/M, Modern AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, accidental date, boys being dumb, office worker shiro, student Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGotAnAccount/pseuds/CGotAnAccount
Summary: “If this works you don't owe me anything, just... try to play nice with them this time, okay? You'll probably get farther.”“Sure thing, Pidgeon.” Keith nods into the crown of her head, digging his chin into her scalp with a smirk. “I'll be miss congeniality just for you.”Visions of Keith in a floor length dress bring a grimace to her face, derailed only by the answering buzz of his savior.A single sentence from Matt.'Try asking Takashi Shirogane in Student Affairs.'
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 226
Collections: Sheithlentines 2020





	All Wrapped Up in Red Tape Ribbons

**Author's Note:**

> For Reyvest - Happy Sheithlentines!

“Un-fucking-believable,” Keith growls, wadding up the notice and stomping over to throw it in the trash. “That's just perfect... exactly what I needed today.”

Pidge spares a glance up from her textbook to cock an eyebrow at him, unruffled by the rare display of temper.

“What'd they send you this time, more hoops to jump through?”

“I wish.” He drags a hand through his hair and tugs it in his fist, blowing out a frustrated breath through his teeth before scrubbing down his face. “They're delaying the disbursement of my scholarship.”

That gets Pidge to straighten fully, eyebrows drawn in consternation as she marks her place and closes the book.

“Whaddya mean delaying disbursement... tuition payments are due in full on Friday.” She shakes her head, grimacing. “They're gonna hit you with overdue fees if it doesn't pay out to cover it by then.”

“I know,” Keith groans, rubbing at his temples as he slumps onto their little kitchen island. “They tried this last semester too, but Dr. Kolivan leaned on them.”

“So, can you get him to do it again?”

Keith's face pinches as he shakes his head.

“He's on sabbatical somewhere in the middle of nowhere... I don't even know if he has internet access.”

“Oof.” Pidge leans over to grab her phone, gnawing on her lip as she pulls up her contact list. “What about Dad, he might be able to help?”

Keith shakes his head again, shoulders slumping even further.

“He tried last time, remember? They didn't even return his call cause I'm not in his classes.”

“That's bullshit,” Pidge grumbles, scrolling furiously through the faculty pages as Keith contemplates his debt-laden demise. “There's gotta be someone you can go to... does it even say why they're holding it up this time?”

Keith has the decency to look sheepish as he shuffles back over to the garbage with a shrug, fishing around for the crumpled paper.

“I didn't really... get that far?”

He smooths it out across the counter and reads more than the first sentence this time, attempting to see past the red haze the words bring.

“It says... my residency requirements haven't been verified?” His brows furrow as he throws his hands into the air. “What does that even mean? I live here.”

Pidge hauls herself up and trots over to the counter, pushing up her glasses to squint at the offending document. Her head cocks as she reads it over twice, cross referencing it with whatever she's got on her phone.

“It looks like they think you live off campus? Or out of state, one of the two.”

“What.... that's.... what?”

Pidge shrugs. “I didn't say they were right, but that's the requirement for that scholarship.”

“But I live.... here.”

Keith's eye is twitching now as he stares down at the stupid piece of paper that's threatening to ruin his year. He'd tear it into pieces and eat it to assert his dominance if he thought it would help, but Pidge's nimble fingers snag it off the counter before he can give in to the urge.

“Well, you and I know that, but apparently they don't... what I.D. did you use when you signed up for financial aid?”

“The one I always use?” Keith shrugs, fishing his wallet out of his pocket to present the little plastic card – awkward photo and all. “It still says Arizona, but I've used it for three years... they know I live here.”

“Well, apparently they forgot.” Pidge huffs a sigh and trudges over to their mail container to root through the piles of paper. “You can probably go down there and show them something official and get them to change it.”

“Down to admin to deal with the pedantic asshole at the front desk?” Keith scoffs, crossing his arms and leaning back against the fridge with a petulant pout. “No thank you. He'll probably throw it in the trash just to fuck with me.”

“They can't all be bad.” She rolls her eyes and tugs an old lease from the mess, turning to slap it against his chest with a stern look. “And it's better to deal with one asshole than pay an extra several thousand dollars cause they can't manage to push their papers.”

Begrudgingly, Keith snatches the crumpled pages and swats her hand away – but not without a final plaintive effort.

“Are you sure Matt can't pull any strings?” He aims his best puppydog eyes her way, complete with wobbling lip. “I'm pretty sure he knows everyone...”

Heaving a sigh, Pidge stretches onto her toes to give his ear a pointed flick before grabbing her phone to text her brother.

“You know that face doesn't work on me,” she grumbles, not bothering to point out that it's one of the most pathetic things she's ever seen. “And flattery works better when you use it on the person you're trying to flatter...”

“You're the best,” Keith crows, ignoring the jab in favor of scooping Pidge into a hug. “I'm gonna buy you the worst coffee I can think of when this works.”

She shakes her head and fires off the message.

“ _If_ this works you don't owe me anything, just... try to play nice with them this time, okay? You'll probably get farther.”

“Sure thing, Pidgeon.” He nods into the crown of her head, digging his chin into her scalp with a smirk. “I'll be miss congeniality just for you.”

Visions of Keith in a floor length dress bring a grimace to her face, derailed only by the answering buzz of his savior.

A single sentence from Matt.

_Try asking Takashi Shirogane in Student Affairs._

As it turns out, emailing someone out of the blue is a lot less awkward and uncomfortable than walking into the office with a damning piece of paper and a sprinkle of seething rage. The response he gets from Mr. Shirogane is surprisingly fast and downright friendly in comparison to his experience with student affairs last time – he even gets an offer to drop by his office the same day to talk things over and figure out a way to keep Keith on track with his semester. He's about ready to kiss this man just for the liberal use of smiley faces and willingness to stay past five so Keith can run there after his last class - and run he does.

Barely eight minutes past the hour finds Keith skidding around the corner of the third floor hallway in the main admin building, sucking in air like it's going out of style after sprinting up two sets of stairs. The sooner this whole thing is behind him the better, especially with the Friday deadline looming over him and one full day nearly gone... but first he's gotta convince some suit – albeit a friendly one – to lend a hand.

An attempt to flatten his hair and regulate his wheezing is made as he trots up to the office door indicated in the email, helpfully open with a myriad of stickers along the door frame covered in all types of welcoming messages for students in need. It's a bit of a try-hard splatter, but it's cute.

“Uhh... Mr. Shirogane?” Keith raps his knuckles gently on the door and shuffles forward enough to crane his neck to see the desk tucked away into the corner. “Are you in?”

A muffled curse draws his attention to an open closet door, followed shortly by a cascade of what appears to be shoe boxes full of papers that splatter onto the floor as one of the biggest men Keith's ever seen stumbles out, thoroughly rumpled but cheerful as he spots the intruder in his office.

“Ah, you must be Keith!” The man hops a step over the papers, kicking the box back into the closet with his heel as he beams at Keith. “Hi, call me Shiro.”

Pointedly ignoring the disaster in the back half of his room, he sticks out a hand to shake as he approaches the door. It's a sleek silver thing, a relatively high tech prosthetic if Keith had to guess based on the natural way it moves around his hand as he reaches out to give it a firm shake – or rather, the way it engulfs his own, big like the rest of the man before him.

“Hi.” Keith almost cringes at the squeak that comes out, clearing his throat as he raises the papers in his hand. “I uh... I have my stuff, thanks for meeting with me on short notice.”

Shiro waves away the thanks as he takes the papers and wanders back to his desk, pulling a chair out for Keith as he goes.

“No problem at all Keith, it's my job to help students after all.” He shoots Keith a grin, like they're in on some joke together, and waves him over to the desk. “Please, make yourself comfortable while I see what we can do.”

“Oh, sure... thanks.” Keith shuffles over to the chair and settles himself down tentatively, fishing around in his pockets for his I.D. for lack of anything better to do. “I have my stuff with me that says I live here too, if you need to see it or anything...”

Shiro flicks a glance up at him from the paper, and shrugs.

“Sure, if you want... it looks like they just got your paperwork mixed up in the system, you said it was fine last year, right?”

Keith shrugs back at him, starting to wonder if the pleasant smile on this guy's face was surgically attached.

“I mean, they didn't send me this paper last year, so I think so?” He cringes, thinking back on the piles of paperwork he'd had to sort through regarding somewhere around eight other different problems in the previous semesters, and offers Shiro an apologetic grimace. “Honestly there's been something wrong every semester and each time it feels like it's just nitpicking... I don't even know what I'm doing wrong, I haven't changed anything, I'm paying my tuition, I just...” He trails off, frustrated at his own helplessness as Shiro sets the paper down.

“Honestly, it's probably not you,” Shiro sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he jerks a thumb to the piles of paperwork on the floor. “They hired me on almost exclusively to catch mistakes like this.... they're distressingly common.”

“That... doesn't really make me feel better.” Keith grumbles, scrubbing a hand down his face as he looks between his own paper and the mess on the floor.

Huffing a laugh, Shiro reaches into his desk to pull out a bowl of candy and plops it between them with a grin.

“Me neither, but stress eating takes the edge off.”

“You stress eat?” Keith gives an incredulous snort, eyeing the buttons straining to contain his pecs. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

The way Shiro's ears turn pink is almost endearing.

“Well, you know...” He coughs into his fist and picks the paper back up again, too polite to preen. “The gym is the next best stress relief after candy.”

“I'll take your word for it.” Keith grins and reaches out to snag what appears to be butterscotch, relaxing back into the chair as he pops it into his mouth, then pauses. “This is sugar free isn't it?”

Shiro beams at him.

“It's still stress eating even without the sugar, right?”

“Sure, Shiro.” Keith sighs, sucking on his sub-par candy as he awaits the verdict from the surprisingly tolerable administrator. “I should have known there was a catch when someone who looks like they could be in a toothpaste commercial offers me candy...”

The blush spreads from his ears to the bridge of his nose now.

Definitely endearing.

“Don't say it like that,” Shiro groans, nose wrinkling as his gaze flickers between the paper and Keith. “People will think I'm creeping around campus luring unsuspecting undergrads to my van.”

Keith hacks a sputtering laugh, nearly choking on the candy in surprise.

“What the _fuck?_ ,” he wheezes, eyes watering as Shiro lurches forward in alarm.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry - that was _so_ weird.” Shiro scrambles for the box of tissues and thrusts one at Keith's face, still babbling. “Jesus, Matt was right, I'm a disaster...”

“No you're good,” Keith garbles out, still coughing as he accepts the tissue and flaps a hand, waving away Shiro's concern. “Just didn't expect humor out of an office drone.”

“Yeah well,” Shiro sighs slumping into his chair in defeat. “This wasn't exactly where I expected to land... not really my forte”

“It's fine,” Keith insists as he wipes at his eyes. “At least you give a shit, that's good enough for me.” He balls up the tissue and chucks it into the trash before aiming a mischievous grin back at Shiro. “Besides, anybody who Matt recommends isn't going to be exactly normal.”

“Heh... that's true,” Shiro agrees, scratching through the short hair at the back of his neck as he shoots Keith a curious look. “How do you know him anyway? He's not usually the person sending students my way.”

“His little sister is my roommate, so we've been thoroughly introduced over the past few years.” He shakes his head, eyes aimed at the ceiling. “Matt's gotten us into and out of a few sticky spots... what about you?”

“That sounds like him,” Shiro laughs, shaking his head as he leans back and shuffles the papers on his desk. “I worked with him and Sam for my dissertation on a theory about dark matter, got the full Holt experience and was apparently adopted.”

Keith blinks at him, brows furrowing as he leans forward.

“Wait, you mean to tell me that _you_ were the third person on that project and you're working _here-_ ” He flails a hand at the tiny cramped office, then to himself. “-helping people with paperwork mistakes?” Leaning back, he crosses his arms with a scowl. “That's fucked up.”

Now it's Shiro turn to bark out a laugh, clearly touched by the fiery indignation on his behalf.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he chuckles, reaching out to push the bowl of unsweetened lies further across the desk. “But it's my choice for now... there won't be a faculty position open until Sanda retires in the Spring, and in the meantime I can still draw salary and use the labs for research.”

Keith deflates just a touch, marginally appeased but unwilling to let go of his newfound grudge so easily.

“Still,” he huffs, throwing Shiro's closet a side-eye. “You've got a Ph.D... this seems a little... insulting.”

Shiro shrugs but doesn't correct him.

“At least I get to help people, right?” He plucks Keith's paper back up from the pile and hands it over to him. “Speaking of, I think you're just going to need to switch out your driver's license to the correct address.”

“But they know I live here!” Keith squawks, fishing the lease from the backpack by his feet. “Look, my name is right there, next to Pidge. I sent this to them three years ago.”

Shiro's brow furrows as he squints at the date on the bottom.

“Have you sent them the latest one for this year?”

“No,” Keith huffs, scowling at the paper in his hand. “We just extended it verbally with the landlord, he cut the going rate for us since Pidge and her friend fixed the HVAC system.”

Shiro can't hide his wince.

“Okay, well....” He shakes his head, hands folded across his desk. “I'm not going to lecture you or Katie about legally binding contracts or the importance of documentation... but you're going to need a bill in your name at the very least if you aren't going to change your I.D. over.”

“Everything is included,” Keith groans, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the oncoming migraine. “We picked this place because we didn't have to worry about remembering to pay like fifteen different things...”

Shiro grimaces across the desk, steepling his fingers.

“I know you don't want to hear this, but the best way to get this sorted out by Friday is to go change your license.”

“I can't just bring them a piece of mail?” Keith half-whines, grasping at straws to avoid what will inevitably turn into a five hour wait at the DMV. “I have plenty, they sent me _that_ paper to the apartment.”

“Look, believe me, I know.” Shiro holds his hands up in surrender. “I'm not saying it's right, but they can't argue with something that official and hold the process up past the deadline. If you want to risk getting the request kicked back with the mail you're welcome to try.”

Keith slumps, blowing out a frustrated breath as he tries not to blow up at the only person willing to help him.

“You're right, I know... it's just-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, shoulders climbing to his ears as he thinks about the hopelessness of getting across town with the hot mess of a bus system in time to not even get in before they close. “-I can't even get there...”

Shiro blinks at him, head cocked.

“Oh, is that all?” He chuckles and pushes away from his desk to stand, smiling down at a bewildered Keith. “That's not a problem. I'd be happy to bring you there tomorrow morning.”

“That's... can you even do that?” Keith squints at him, gesturing to the office. “Isn't that like against some thing?”

“What? ...No.” Shiro shakes his head with a laugh. “I have absolutely zero authority over you, in case that wasn't clear with the general shoe box size of my office... besides, we have a mutual friend, it's totally not weird.”

Keith hesitates for half a second before shrugging and hauling himself to his feet.

“I mean, if you're sure... that'd be great.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder and reaches a hand out for Shiro to shake. “I have a break between classes from nine to one tomorrow, so if early works for you...”

“That'd be fine.” Shiro nods, reaching out to clasp Keith's hand again, clapping him on the shoulder with the other. “Really, I'm happy to help a friend of a friend – right?”

“Heh... right.” Keith can't help the twinge of a blush the creeps across his face at the proximity of that golden retriever smile and the giant palm on his shoulder. “Well, I appreciate it... should I just show up here, or...?”

“Oh!” Shiro startles back, spinning to pluck something off his desk to scribble on before thrusting it into Keith's hands. “Here, that's my card, I wrote my cell on the back so you can text me tomorrow when you get out.”

“Alright, cool.” Keith smiles down at the card in his hand before glancing back up at Shiro through his lashes. “Thanks... I guess I'll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeap!” Shiro chirps, waving as Keith shuffles toward the door. “See you then!”

That's how Keith finds himself trudging across the quad obnoxiously early the next morning, overly tired and under-caffeinated – thoroughly annoyed at himself for not having his important papers in anywhere resembling a sensible location, which meant staying up until the wee hours of the morning getting his shit together and finishing his assignment for the morning class.

It's a wonder he even makes it there after sleeping through his first alarm – if Pidge hadn't done her best to yank all the covers off his bed he'd probably have missed the entire thing and found himself even further up shit creek. As it is he barely takes any notes, resigned to handing in the assignment and hoping that Allura is feeling generous and willing to share the ones he can see her taking, scribbling dutifully in her seat two rows over.

By the time the professor lets them go Keith feels like he's wading through molasses just pulling out his phone to text a quick note to Shiro letting him know he's earned his freedom. He doesn't even manage to slide it back into his pocket before it buzzes with a response – two emojis and instructions to meet him in the faculty parking lot nearest to the building his class had been in.

The phone gets stuffed in his pocket with what might be half of a grateful sob that he doesn't have to trudge all the way across campus to Shiro's building. The other half actually comes out when he sets eyes on his new best friend holding two cups of coffee with a bright smile.

“Good morning, Keith!” Shiro chirps, offering out one steaming blessing to the zombie shambling toward him. “I stopped by the cafeteria this morning and thought you might want something. I didn't know what you like, but there's creamer and uh...” He trails off as Keith accepts the cup and greedily sucks down the steaming liquid without pause. “Or not.”

Keith shakes his head, still chugging the ambrosia as he waves his free hand in placation. He almost feels alive again by the time he breaks for air, wiping his mouth with his sleeve as he pants up at Shiro.

“Creamer is good, but... coffee.”

Shiro's answering chuckle sounds almost as good as the coffee tastes after an hour of droning lecture.

“I feel you completely,” he laughs, clapping Keith on the back before opening the passenger door and ushering Keith inside the warm interior. “If I hadn't already had two cups this morning I'd be the living dead.”

“Really, you?” Keith blinks at him, surprised as he ducks inside and settles into the heated leather seats. “I figured you'd be more of a gym for breakfast and sunshine for lunch kind of guy.”

The bark of laughter he gets in return lights up Shiro's whole face, even muffled as it is by Shiro shutting the door on him, giving him a much needed moment to compose himself as Shiro circles around to the driver's side. He's still snickering as he slides in with far too much grace for nine in the morning.

“You know, Keith,” Shiro drawls, throwing him a grin that might be considered flirty under any other circumstances. “Some of us go there so we can do all the other fun things we want for the rest of the day.”

“Right,” Keith scoffs, pausing in his fiddling with the creamer packet to send a disbelieving stare Shiro's way. “Like what, putting cheese on your veggies?”

“Hey!” The indignant pout on Shiro's face as he throws the car into gear is priceless, made even better by the wrinkle in his nose... not that Keith is looking. “I'll have you know that I do all sorts of exciting and rebellious things, you can even ask Matt.”

“I'm sure you do,” Keith soothes, reaching over to pat one corded forearm. “Sometimes you take random guys places in your car too, that's like the number one stranger danger don't.”

Shiro scoffs, eyes never straying from the road as he steers them across campus.

“You're hardly a stranger, Keith.” He nudges an elbow into Keith's arm over the center console with a smirk. “Dealing with Matt for a significant amount of time makes us brothers in arms, right? We've survived a war.”

The coffee almost ends up all over the dashboard as Keith sputters around a sip.

“I'm telling him you said that,” he chokes out through his giggles, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve and mentally patting himself on the back for not spewing all over the gorgeous interior. “But you're not wrong... it's just more of a war against common sense and general dignity.”

“Oh _god_ , don't remind me.” Shiro groans, face pinching in horror at some not so distant memory. “Matt has enough blackmail on me to end my career before it even starts.” He shakes his head and casts a haunted glance Keith's way. “Always assume he's taping... _always._ ”

“Wow.” Keith chuckles weakly, shuffling his feet in the almost obnoxiously clutter-free leg room. “That's certainly ominous...”

“Just... trust me.” Shuddering, Shiro grimaces at the road like a man remembering the gallows. “There was whipped cream and firecrackers, Keith... nothing good happens with whipped cream and firecrackers.”

Personally, Keith can think of quite a few things that he could enjoy with those items and the man beside him, but he settles for a placating nod and a gentle pat to Shiro's arm – perfectly happy to let the conversation lapse into comfortable silence while he imagines exactly where that whipped cream might have been.

Shiro seems equally content to stew in his own reminiscence, ears steaming as he stares resolutely forward, like he could erase the contents of Matt's hard drive through sheer mental effort.

It's adorable.

Almost as adorable as the glances Shiro keeps trying to sneak over at him as he lets his head tilt back, eyes nearly closed as he floats in the half-awake limbo that accompanies the smooth jazz playing. If Keith didn't know any better he'd think Shiro was checking him out from the way his cheeks tinge pink, but that's almost assuredly the wishful thinking of a man who hasn't seen action past the palm of his hand in months.

In fact, it's more likely that there's coffee smeared across his cheek or a giant booger clinging for dear life on a wayward nose hair... and once he starts thinking about it, he can't stop.

“Something on my face?” he asks through a yawn as they pull into the parking lot. “Better tell me now in case they want to take a new picture.”

“W-what?” Shiro whips his head around, wide-eyed and blushing as he lurches the car into a jerky stop that has Keith clutching the door. “No!”

“Uh...” Keith blinks at him, wide-eyed as he unclips his seatbelt.

“I- I mean-” Shiro stutters, “your face is good.” He winces, practically hurling himself out of the car before ducking back down to poke his head in the door. “I mean, it's fine. You're fine. It's a face.”

Then he slams the door, leaving Keith to ease himself out of the passenger side, thoroughly confused but reassured at least that he does in fact have a face.

“Weeelllll...” he drawls, slinging his bag over his shoulder and shutting the door gently before strolling up to where Shiro stands facing away, head cradled in one hand. “Guess we better get this over with then?”

Nodding into his palm, Shiro takes three quick steps toward the building... and promptly trips over the curb.

“ _Gaaah!”_

Keith nearly catches a windmilling arm to the chin as he lunges forward to grab the back of his jacket, yanking Shiro upright before he can become one with the concrete.

“Easy there big guy,” he grunts, wrapping an arm around Shiro's startlingly tiny waist to steady him as the man plants a hand on his own chest as heaves out a gusty sigh. “Don't wanna break that pretty face of yours.”

The giggle that slips of out Shiro's mouth is near hysterical as he drags a hand down his face and straightens up, tugging at his own jacket in a last-ditch attempt to reclaim his dignity. The furious blush across his cheeks doesn't help his case much as he aims a sheepish look down at Keith.

“I promise I'm not usually this awkward,” he squeaks, scrubbing at the back of his neck. “I don't get out much, and when I do I think to hard about it probably.”

“You're good,” Keith assures him, stepping back and letting his steadying arm drop as his smile slides into playful. “I know they don't let the nerds out of the dungeon very often, and the office drones probably even less.”

“Oof.” Shiro groans and clutches his chest, nose wrinkling in a laugh as he takes the barb in stride. “And here I was just about to thank you for saving me...”

“Tell you what,” Keith grins at him, cheeky as he takes an exaggerated step up onto the curb and offers Shiro a hand up. “We'll call it even since you drove me here, so really we saved each other.”

Shiro's hand wraps almost daintily around his as he lets Keith guide him down the sidewalk and into the building, far too smiley for someone entering the DMV.

“You know, I can live with that.”

An hour and a half later Keith can't quite regret his words as they trudge out of the building with a new license and lighter wallet.

“Christ that place is hell,” he grumbles as Shiro shoulders the door open and holds it for him, squinting into the sun with prejudice. “It took them like thirty seconds to print the damn thing and more than an hour to listen to that guy sniffle every fifteen seconds.”

“Oh my _god._ ” Shiro sags in relief next to him, letting the good boy smile drop as he rolls his eyes. “I didn't want to say anything but _holy shit_ I was going to smother him in the next ten minutes if you didn't get called up there.”

“I know, right!” Keith squawks, throwing his hands in the air and twirling a circle to gesture back at the glass doors. “Blow your fucking nose! It's not that hard!”

Shiro snorts at his theatrics, glancing back at the building with furrowed brows.

“Well, at least you shouldn't have to go back for at least four years now, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Keith shrugs, turning back to aim a smile Shiro's way. “Silver linings, right?” Leaning over, he knocks a playful shoulder into Shiro – though it's barely enough to even jostle him. “Thanks for driving me all the way through hell, I know traffic can be rough on the River Styx.”

“Anytime, Keith.” Shiro winks and twirls his keys around his finger, eyebrows wiggling. “I've got a sweet deal with the ferryman, you know... he got my arm as a down payment and I get a pass on all tolls.”

The joke is so terrible it nearly stops Keith in his tracks, squinting at Shiro's self-satisfied grin in disbelief.

“Did you just-?”

“Listen,” Shiro cuts him off with a laugh, shrugging and ushering Keith around the car. “It's not my fault... nerdy gallows humor is the only thing they let me keep in the office.”

“Yeah,” Keith snickers, shaking his head as he slides inside and buckles in. “Clearly there wasn't any room for your sanity left in that closet.”

A sly smirk crawls across Shiro's face as he backs them out.

“Well you know, Keith,” he drawls, impish in a way that has Keith pressing his lips into a thin line already. “You're absolutely right. I came out of the closet a long time ago and took my sanity with me.”

Keith has to close his eyes and suck in a deep breath, counting to three before blowing it out in a long sigh.

“That was... terrible.” He opens his eyes to level Shiro with his flattest look. “I'm disappointed.”

“Hi disappointed,” Shiro chirps, sealing Keith's fate with what has to be his most obnoxious grin. “I'm Dad.”

Keith gapes at him, horrified at Shiro's terrible taste in jokes and his own terrible taste in men who tell those jokes.

“You know what?” He tips his seat back and laces his hands behind his head, nodding to Shiro in surrender. “You win... I can't beat a man who has clearly practiced this in his own car.”

Shiro beams at him.

“You're a quick learner.”

Keith scoffs, stretching out a leg to kick the backpack with his new documents inside.

“Not quick enough or I wouldn't have these problems every year, right?”

The smile melts into a tiny pout that lodges itself between Keith's ribs.

“Well, at least it turned out better this year?” Shiro offers, shoulders slumping in a half shrug. “Even if this whole thing isn't ideal...” He glances at the clock on the dash and frowns, gnawing on his lip for a moment before turning his puppy dog eyes back on Keith. “It's nearly quarter past eleven... can I at least get you lunch for your trouble?”

“Can you... what?” Keith lets his hands drop as he twists to look at Shiro, incredulous. “For _my_ trouble? Shiro, no... you just drove me across town, you don't need to get me lunch.”

“But it was our department's error,” Shiro insist, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as a frown pulls at the corner of his mouth. “You would have had plenty of time to eat before class if you hadn't gotten stuck with me today... now the dining hall is going to be packed by the time you get back.”

“Shiro, no.” Keith shakes his head, well and truly perplexed by the rabbit hole of a thought process he's hearing. “I would've eaten like a granola bar at best... I don't have a meal plan here and don't go home between classes, it's fine.”

“You don't have a meal plan?” Shiro nearly turns to gawk at Keith, brow furrowing even further... because of course that's what he latches onto in that statement. “Well then you should definitely let me get you lunch for all this hassle.”

“Oh my god.” Keith huffs a laugh and slumps back in his seat, shaking his head at the man with a do-gooder streak a mile wide. “You know what? Sure. If it'll make you happy you can get me lunch.”

Shiro's answering smile is blinding.

“But!” Keith interjects before he can open his mouth. “Nothing fancy, I'm talking taco bell levels of cheap date here.”

Shiro nods, no less pleased with himself as he flicks on his blinker and steers them through the city with new purpose.

“Fried rat and cardboard, gotcha.” He spares Keith a wink at his answering huff before humming in thought. “Any food allergies? Preferences?”

“Nah.” Keith shakes his head and props his chin on his jaw as they roll through unfamiliar neighborhoods. “I don't get out much but I'm not picky... anything you like is fine.”

“That's what I was hoping you'd say,” Shiro nearly purrs, flicking a cheshire smile toward the passenger side. “You are in for a treat.”

Keith isn't exactly certain 'treat' is the right word as they roll up to what can only be described as a shack. The roof alone looks like it might start dripping tetanus onto passersby at any moment – and that's not even counting the crooked exposed nail heads that appear to be keeping the rickety sign clinging for dear life to the edge of a piece of sheet metal.

He thinks the word sprayed across it is “Charlie's”, but it's kinda hard to tell with all the rusty streaks around the red paint.

“Uuuh... Shiro?” Keith hesitates to unclip his seatbelt as Shiro throws the car in park and hops out, giddy as a kid on Christmas. “Are you sure this is the place?”

“Positive.” Shiro nods, jerking his chin toward the shack with his hands on his hips as he shoots Keith a conspiratorial little grin. “It's the best kept secret in town, you know. I've never had better hot dogs.”

“Shiro...” Keith starts, fumbling as he slides out of the car, like his insides know they're going to become his outsides if he sets foot in there. “It looks like we're going to get murdered and turned into hot dogs if we go in there.”

“Tch, naaah,” Shiro laughs, strolling toward the horror scene like a man without a care in the world, not even pausing to see if Keith is following. “Come on, I'll prove it to you.”

Heaving a sigh, Keith trudges behind him across cigarette strewn gravel, nearly crashing into Shiro at the top of some creaky steps.

“Just... one thing,” Shiro hedges, smile tinging apologetic. “Try not to look up... or behind the counter... or really at anything but your food, okay?”

“Shiro.” Keith sighs deeply and aggrievedly as he reaches up to plant a hand on Shiro's corded forearm. “I trust you, but if I get hepatitis today from some skeezy fork you're going to be worrying a lot less about what I think of the décor and a lot more about how you're gonna get home after I steal your car and run you over.”

The answering gulp is as audible as Shiro's nervous chuckle, just shy of hysterical as he drags a hand through his forelock and steps aside to let Keith up the last step.

“Don't worry, you'll be eating with your hands?”

The flat press of Keith's lips is answer enough as he shakes his head and pushes the screen door open, resigned to an afternoon of food poisoning.

Inside isn't much better, and Keith belatedly remembers he shouldn't be looking at the ceiling as his mind tries to find patterns in the thick layer of greasy residue. It makes him wonder what kind of health inspector-less hellscape he's wandered into, almost afraid to look too hard at the corners of the room lest he find skittering friends sharing a fry or two.

“Aaaay, Shiro my boy!”

The swinging door breaking the line of counter bangs open as a giant hairy man in a questionably yellowed apron takes two massive strides into the little entryway and engulfs Shiro in a hug that reeks of fry oil.

“I haven't seen you in a week! What's been keeping my best customer?”

“Hey, Charlie, it's good to see you.” Shiro pats the other man on the back as best he can, trapped as he is. “Work's been real busy lately, hard to get out of the dungeon.”

“I hear ya.” The big man nods, pulling back to hold Shiro at arm's length. “I swear you get bigger every time I see you.” He shakes his head before squeezing Shiro's biceps and dropping his hands to plant them on his own hips. “Gotta keep a growing boy fed, am I right?”

“As always.”

Keith stares between them in slack jawed disbelief as Shiro is reduced to a skinny teen in a matter of seconds. The quiet little 'huh' that escapes him is, unfortunately, enough to draw the attention of the behemoth as he leans around Shiro to peer at Keith.

“Well you ain't Holt,” the guy grunts as he plants a meaty paw on Shiro's shoulder and moves him a step sideways like he's a sack of potatoes. “Who's your new friend?”

“Uh, this is Keith... I thought I'd show him the best place in town.”

Charlie grunts and considers Keith for a moment before his gaze flicks back to Shiro's faint blush and his face lights up in a wicked grin.

“Ay Martha!” he shouts into the back as Shiro buries his face in his hands and groans. “Little Shiro brought a boy!”

“ _Charlie,”_ Shiro hisses as a tiny slip of a woman pokes her head out from the kitchen. “Please, I just wanted lunch...”

“A boy?” The woman scurries out and over to Keith, squinting at him in a way that reminds him of the turkey vultures from back home. “He's a skinny kid, Shiro... don't you feed him?”

“Oh my god, Martha.... please...” Shiro groans like he's dying, face on fire where it peeks out through his fingers. “Please, god, please do not.”

Keith can't help the hysterical giggle bubbling up in his chest as Shiro curls in on himself, the epitome of regret in the flesh.

“We're new friends, ma'am.” He offers her a hand to shake and his best smile, thoroughly amused by the turn of events even if he does still get tetanus. “He hasn't had time to feed me properly.”

“Well, whaddya like? Hot dogs? Chili? Chili dogs? The works?” She jerks a thumb back to the kitchen with a toothy grin. “Lunch is on me, kiddo... gotta make up for the lack of manners in our boy here.”

“Whatever you think is best,” Keith assents, aiming his own smirk at the puddle of a human that used to be Takashi Shirogane. “I heard this was the finest establishment in town.”

“Hah! Well that's a load a' shit,” she cackles as she bustles back behind the counter. “But the food pretty good, lemme box something up for ya.”

Charlie rumbles a laugh and claps a hand on Keith's shoulder hard enough to stagger him as he nudges Shiro with a meaty elbow.

“I like this one, kid... try not to let Matt run him off.”

“Noted,” Shiro gurgles out, ears steaming.

The mountain of a man nods again and lumbers into the back just long enough to grab two greasy paper bags from his wife and thrust them over the counter.

“You kids have fun.”

“We will, thanks for the food,” Keith chirps, taking the bags as Shiro stuffs a twenty into an overflowing tip jar and herds him back into the open air.

He waits until they crunch across the gravel to Shiro's car, smirk growing all the while as the other man desperately tries to avoid his eyes.

“Soooo....” Keith drawls, peeking into the nearly dripping bags as Shiro throws the car into gear like he can drive away from a world where that just happened. “They seemed nice.”

“Please...” Shiro sighs, banging his skull lightly against the headrest. “My dignity is already mortally wounded, I can't take another blow.”

“What, I'm just saying they were friendly.” Keith grins at him as he rummages around and pulls out a box that has more toppings than hot dog inside. “I didn't realize you were still a growing boy.”

“I'm going to be a skinny seventeen year old to them until I die,” Shiro sighs, shaking his head. “I found that place my freshman year and nearly ate them out of mini hot dogs... they probably thought I was a street urchin.”

“Little Orphan Shiro,” Keith nods, piling the first bite high as he readies himself for what he hopes isn't his last meal. “I can see it, you've got a good kicked puppy face.”

He takes a first tentative bite as Shiro pouts at him, effectively proving his point, but he can't even care with the explosion of flavor taking over his entire life.

“Oh my god,” he moans, going back for another bite immediately. “Holy shit this is the best thing I've ever tasted.”

“Isn't it?” Shiro grins at him, suddenly smug again as Keith inhales the greasiest, meatiest, most deliciously sloppy meal of his life. “Was it worth the tetanus risk?”

“Abfawufwy.” Keith garbles out, nodding frantically before swallowing with a pleased groan. “I'd go back and lick that roof if it means more of these.”

“Told you so,” Shiro hums, tapping his fingers on the wheel as he flicks a longing glance at the bag. “Is there enough in there for both of us?”

“No, Shiro,” Keith deadpans, holding up the second bag. “I'm going to eat all eight of these by myself before we even get back to campus.”

“Well, I can't blame you.” A wistful sigh escapes with the words as Shiro lets his lower lip poke out. “Martha _did_ say I wasn't feeding you.”

“You're an idiot.” Keith shakes his head with a fond smile, doing his best to scoop up a manageably clean bite into the bun. “Here, open your mouth.”

Shiro's eyebrows rocket up his face, but he obliges, turning his head toward Keith while keeping his eyes fixed on the road. It's nearly enough to make Keith drop the bite right back into his lap as Shiro's tongue darts out to wet his lips in preparation... but then he's guiding the bite inside with minimal finger grazing and just the slightest hint of sauce smearing at the corner of Shiro's lips.

Shiro's shudder and accompanying hum of pleasure is distracting, and Keith certainly doesn't file it away for later as he readies the next bite.

They pass the rest of the car ride like that, Keith alternating between stuffing his own face and carefully feeding Shiro bites to save his upholstery and clean shirt, chatting intermittently about their lives.

It's almost disturbingly comfortable – enough that Keith forgets himself and reaches out to wipe away a particularly messy smear of sauce from the corner of Shiro's lips with his thumb, absentmindedly sucking it into his own mouth before freezing in mute horror.

Shiro for his part doesn't even seem to notice, humming his thanks as he chews happily, eyes still on the road as they near their destination. In fact, he's so oblivious to Keith's internal panic that he opens his mouth again for another bite as soon as he's done chewing, eyes crinkling at the corners.

It's nearly too much for Keith's poor gay heart – an entire morning spent in the company of an utter gentleman, his very own knight in shining armor, gorgeous to a fault and equally sweet. The next bite for Shiro gets lifted between shaky fingers with a newfound sensitivity to the way those lips just caress his thumb, mind instantly jumping to where else they would feel divine with the same feather-light touch.

Still, the entire thing is all his fault... why he thought it would be a good idea to hand feed someone so wholly ideal, such a glorious specimen of man – on their first day together that certainly isn't a date – is far beyond any reasoning he can currently grasp. Especially since his brain is firing on approximately two cylinders and half the blood flow it requires.

“One bite left,” he squeaks, clearing his throat and mentally willing himself to stop being such a teenager with a crush about this whole thing. “You can have it.”

“Are you sure?” Shiro turns further to look at Keith, eyebrows scrunched even as he smiles. “You heard Martha, I gotta feed you better, right?”

“Shiro-” Keith sputters, nearly dropping the last bite as he scrubs his free hand down his face to hide his flaming cheeks. “Just eat the damn hot dog.”

“Yes sir,” Shiro snarks back, winking and opening wide.

And Keith, well... Keith knows he's going to hell right then, but at least he'll have that image burned into his lizard brain for the rest of his thirsty existence. As he lifts the last morsel to Shiro's lips he wants to think that he's moving slower for the sake of the driver's ability to continue operating the vehicle, and not at all the desire to savor every second of this unbearably intimate and utterly ridiculous situation.

If only Matt and Pidge could see him now.

They'd surely drag him within an inch of his life for the way his breath hitches as those perfect plush lips curl around him one last time. There'd be video of the way he knows his eyes have gone dark and hazy – photographic evidence of the way his jeans are currently strangling him underneath the greasy bag in his lap...

Thankfully, he gets to suffer this moment in peace, knowing he can die happy as Shiro chews with a pleased little hum.

“Ahh, that was delicious.” Shiro licks his lips and rubs his washboard abs, glancing Keith's way again with a smile as he pulls into the parking lot near the administration building. “Thanks, Keith.”

Keith can only shrug, casually mortified and trying desperately to think of a way to cover himself that doesn't involve holding an oily lunch sack to his crotch for the next ten minutes.

“You're the one who took us there, big guy.”

“Still,” Shiro insists, unbuckling and turning pierce Keith with the most earnest look. “It was a fun change of pace, right?” He huffs a laugh, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, if you ever need to go on any inconvenient adventures feel free to text me.”

“I'll keep that in mind, Shiro... thanks again.” Keith unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door, stretching his legs subtly as he holds the sack in front of himself. “I'll take care of the trash.”

“Oh... yeah.” Shiro blinks at him from inside the car before scrambling out of it himself and leaning his forearms on the roof. “Let me know how it goes?” There's a hopeful lilt to his tone that he coughs away, shrugging. “I mean, if you want to, you know... in case you need to go back or-”

“I'll let you know, Shiro,” Keith cuts off his rambling with a smile before taking a step back and jerking his thumb behind him. “But I've gotta go now, so... see you around.”

Shiro slumps against the car, lifting a hand in response.

“Yeah, right.... see you.”

And then Keith is turning, cursing his class schedule and all the gods of inopportune timing as he walks away from the most wonderful man he's ever met.

Friday afternoon finds him laying on the couch after his last class in a ratty pair of sweats, spooning peanut butter into his mouth from the jar.

“Wow,” Pidge drawls as she walks in the room, one eyebrow arched so high he's surprised it hasn't fled her face entirely. “Already in post-breakup mode with a guy you never even dated.”

“Shut up.” The grumble is entirely without heat and half muffled by a mouthful of sludge – she's not entirely wrong after all. “M'just tired.”

“Uh-huh.” She plops down next to him, swiping the jar without remorse and sticking her finger straight into it as she levels him with an incredulous look. “That's why you look like someone ran over your dog and we're down to our emergency jar even after you got the good news about your paperwork being cleared up.”

“If someone ran over Kosmo I'd look a lot more homicidal than this,” Keith grunts, slouching further into the cushions like they might absorb him entirely if he wills it hard enough. “And I am happy about that, if it didn't work out we'd have no peanut butter at all.”

Pidge skewers him with a toe to the ribs, drawing a grunt as she cocks the other eyebrow.

“...But?”

The sigh Keith heaves out is beyond aggrieved, though it doesn't faze his tormentor in the slightest. There's no getting out of this conversation.

“But now I don't have a reason to talk to Shiro again without being weird and creepy.”

Pidge blinks at him, likely stunned by the uncharacteristic candor of the response, but shrugs all the same.

“So?”

“What do you mean, 'so?'” Keith scowls at her, straightening a leg to poke her back. “That's it.”

She rolls her eyes, swatting his foot away.

“That's not it, you didn't even tell him what happened, right?”

Keith hunches his shoulders, instantly defensive.

“He was only being nice when he said that, he's a busy guy.”

“And you're a stupid one,” Pidge fires back without an ounce of sympathy for his plight. “A guy like that wouldn't give you his personal cell and ask for a followup if he didn't mean it.” She eyes him meaningfully as he continues to pout at her before digging her toe deep into his thigh. “And Matt wouldn't be friends with this guy if he wasn't genuine, right?”

He lets out a very manly yelp and scoots back up the cushions, rubbing his leg where it's sure to bruise later.

“Matt made friends with the feral raccoon that lives in the woods behind your parents' house,” he grumbles, pouting at her in an effort to deflect from her valid point. “His standards are rock bottom.”

“That's why he hangs out with you,” she sneers back, rolling her eyes. “Just fucking text him and stop eating all of our peanut butter, the couch is starting to smell like depression and ass sweat.”

Middle finger high, he gropes around the crack of the cushion for his phone, scowling as he touches something suspiciously sticky before pulling it out and spinning around the blank lock screen.

“See that, oh all knowing one?” He waggles it in her face, ignoring the answering scoff. “That's zero notifications. If he really wanted to know, he's capable of asking.”

“You are-” Pidge grits out, teeth clenched as she rubs at her temples. “-so fucking stubborn and stupid and such a _guy_.”

Keith screws up his face and sticks his tongue out at her, drawing a hiss of frustration as Pidge snatches her own phone off the table and flails it around.

“Look, Shiro whined to Matt that he hadn't heard back, _okay_?” She spits the words like they burn, mollified only by Keith's sudden surprise. “Yeah, that's right, he gives a shit... now _stop being an asshole._ ”

“I...” Keith starts, drawing back and blinking down at his own phone. “I'm... an asshole?” He furrows his brows at the screen, opening up the previous conversation full of Shiro's happy emojis telling Keith where he was parked... thinking back to his promise to let him know how it went... “Oh my god I _am_ an asshole.”

“Yeah, jerkwad,” Pidge sighs, straightening up to nudge him with an elbow. “If you weren't so emotionally constipated you could've been wooing him by now.”

“Nah.” Keith shakes his head reflexively, waving away her exasperation. “He's too good to be interested in a broke loser like me... but I should've texted him back.”

“Whatever,” she grumbles, apparently resigning herself to losing this round. “Just go talk to him before Matt nags me more.”

Keith doesn't dignify that with a response, busy digging out of the hole of his own making.

_Hey Shiro, I got some good news back if you wanted to hear it... you free tomorrow a.m.?_

The trudge up the stairs to the third floor is tinged with a different set of nerves this time as Keith tries to stomp down the stupid fluttering of anticipation in his veins. Shiro might have responded positively to his long overdue text the night before, but that doesn't mean he's interested in anything more than a quick update on how one of the students of his institution is doing... nothing more than his daily dose of warm fuzzy feelings.

It certainly doesn't mean that there's anything more between them than mutual acquaintances of the same lunatic either. He just needs to go in there, tell Shiro everything went fine, thank him for his time, and forget about how devastatingly handsome and good the man is - no matter how pathetically gay his own heart can be.

Too bad the pathetically gay heart in question hasn't exactly gotten the memo as it speeds up with each step closer to Shiro's tiny office.

“Come on, you can do this,” Keith mumbles to himself, shaking the tension out of his arms and cracking his clenched jaw. “No big deal, in and out.”

He bounces lightly on his toes, like a prize fighter about to step into the ring, but it doesn't help his nerves one bit as the array of stickers on Shiro's door creep into view.

The little rainbow sticker taunts him now, a cheery little mockery telling him he's certainly safe in there as a gay man – utterly discounting the high probability of his early demise via gay panic.

Keith scowls at it as he gets closer, hesitating just outside the open door to hype himself up one last time before taking the plunge...

“Okay, Takashi, you got this.”

He pauses at the sound of Shiro's voice accompanied by shuffling on the carpet.

“Totally professional, no big deal, nothing you can't handle.”

Keith cocks his head, brow furrowed as Shiro's voice floats into the hallway.

“Just a cute guy, you got this. You're not a creep.”

The words are accompanied by what sounds like a chest slap and a grunt as Keith continues to listen, mouth slowly falling open in disbelief.

“Congratulations, happy to help, wanna get coffee? …No, that's weird.”

A frustrated growl slips out of the room as Keith digs a pinkie into his ear just in case.

“Glad to be of service anytime?” Shiro's tone is a touch flirty, promptly cut off by another groan. “No, idiot, you're old and useful... don't make it weird.”

“Please do-” Keith blurts out, practically lunging across the threshold, catching Shiro mid-turn in his pacing. “God, make it as weird as you want.”

“Keith!” Shiro yelps, startling back into the edge of his desk with a wince that he tries to turn into a nonchalant lean, succeeding only in planting a hand on a stack of papers that promptly slide off the desk under his weight, sending him stumbling again. “You're um... early...”

“I'm right on time for that coffee date,” Keith insists, stepping so far into Shiro's space he has to crane his neck to keep eye contact. “Or any other date you want, or... whatever.”

“Keith, I-” Shiro stutters, hands flying behind him to grip the edge of the desk as Keith throws himself out there. “You don't have to just because I helped you, that'd be a gross abuse of-”

“Shiro.” Keith's tone brooks no argument as he cuts him off, letting one hand settle on top of Shiro's. “You said it yourself, you've got zero authority over me.” He leans even closer, until he can feel the heat radiating from Shiro's body. “And believe me, you'd be doing me another favor just letting me have a chance with a guy like you...”

“Really?” Shiro squeaks, eyes wide as they dart between Keith's eyes and the hand on top of his. “But you're so cute, and smart, and funny, and-”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Keith scoffs, caressing the knuckles under his thumb. “Sounds to me like you're describing yourself.”

Chiseled cheeks flare as Shiro ducks his head, grin blooming distractingly close as he looks up at Keith through his lashes.

“Come on, Shiro,” Keith breathes into the air between them, letting a hopeful smile curl the corner of his mouth. “Whaddya say... coffee on me? The finest the cafeteria has to offer.”

Shiro lets out a small hum, one hand coming up to brush Keith's bangs back as he searches his eyes.

“I say...” He pauses, stroking the dimple in Keith's cheek as his grin brightens into full on beaming, his nose wrinkling in giddy laughter. “Let's do it, but...”

“But?” Keith asks, brow pinching in concern that's quickly chased away by Shiro's thumb.

“But.” Shiro nods, smile never wavering as he dips so close Keith can almost taste him. “Let's skip the cafeteria, I know a place that has the _best_ coffee – just... don't look too hard at the cup.”

Keith huffs a laugh into the sliver between them before pressing his weight onto his toes... and his smile into Shiro's.

“Sold.”


End file.
